Chapter Nineteen
With a full belly and a dumbfounded grin on his face, Matthew sat next to Jasmine in a swaying carriage, recalling the way her mouth moved when she whispered the words, ‘Te deseo.’ He wanted to hear those words in every language. And maybe one day...
Te amo.
But at this moment, Jasmine was completely silent.
Across from them, Cassandra carried the conversation.
Rose sat next to her, bouncing with every bump.
Cassandra chatted about what had changed in London since Jasmine had last been there, pointing out new storefronts.
Jasmine nodded absently, staring out of the window with a pinch between her brows.
After he returned to the kitchen, she had been subdued, and he wondered if perhaps he had pushed too hard.
He had almost lost control while kissing her, but it was so blasted difficult to stop once he got started.
With the sounds she had made, and how ardently she returned his kiss, she was certainly interested.
So why wasn’t she meeting his eyes?
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
She blinked, as if waking up. She gave him a comforting smile. “No, everything is perfect. I have a lot on my mind, that’s all.” She looked out the window once more. “I wish we had more time.”
“I wish so too,” Cassandra said. “We just got you back.”
Matthew felt slightly guilty for monopolizing Jasmine’s time when Cassandra had missed her so much too. But the family would have her plenty once they married. In the meantime, he allowed himself a modicum of selfishness.
He reached down and held Jasmine’s hand, appreciating the rise of pink on the back of her neck and the way her thumb brushed against his.
Cassandra politely ignored them.
After the carriage stopped outside the Sinclair Mansion, Matthew helped Jasmine and then Cassandra from the carriage. He held Rose at his hip as they ascended the steps.
Once inside, they found Aunt Valentine and Caroline alone in the sitting room. Aunt Valentine wore a congenial smile on her face, but tight irritation around the eyes. Caroline sat with shoulders slumped. A bouquet of orange blossoms lay limply on the table in front of them.
Matthew shared a glance with Cassandra, then shook his head.
“What was wrong with the ambassador?” he asked. “Didn’t like the way he chewed?”
“He didn’t think she was funny,” Aunt Valentine said tersely. “Which is not a good reason to reject a gentleman.”
“Yes it is,” Caroline argued. “I won’t spend a lifetime with someone who merely humors me. He doesn’t have to find me funny, but to lie about it?” She groaned. “Politicians.”
“We’ll keep searching, dear. I’m sure we’ll find someone suitable soon.” Cassandra took Rose from Matthew, then set her down. The child immediately went to playing with the toys on the floor.
Cassandra asked Matthew, “Will you be home tonight, or are you sleeping at the factory?”
“That depends on my meeting with General Ortiz, in…” He checked his watch. “Ten minutes. Either way, I’ll send your husband home at a decent time—with no new bruises.”
Cassandra smiled. “See that you do.”
“Speaking of your meeting,” Aunt Valentine cut in. “Your associates and General Ortiz are already in my husband’s study. Perhaps you should join them?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be on my way.” He bowed to the room. “Enjoy your afternoon, ladies.”
As he turned to leave, Aunt Valentine called out. “Oh, but where are my manners? Jasmine, would you mind accompanying Lord Lincolnshire to the study?”
“I know the way—” Matthew’s voice trailed off at Aunt Valentine’s pointed look and Jasmine’s pout. “Though, I suppose a guide would be appreciated?”
Seeing how quickly things change around here.
“I’ll ensure you don’t get lost.” Jasmine linked her arm with his and led him from the room. “Follow me, my lord.”
Back in the hallway, his jaw dropped. Unsure what type of new reality he found himself in, he asked, “Is your mother already drunk?”
“No. Or at least, I don’t think so.” She laughed. “She’s starting to trust you again.”
“A terrible idea.” He pulled her into a dark corner, wrapped her in his arms, and nipped at her ear. “Now there’s nothing to stop me from ravishing you.”
“A meeting is stopping you.” She playfully shoved his chest and walked in front of him down the hall. “Come along, before I take you up on your offer.”
He groaned. “Darling, I need to teach you how to negotiate.”
He followed her up the stairs to the second floor. Luscious hips swayed back and forth as she ascended the steps in front of him. His hand lifted of its own accord, and he shoved both hands into his pockets when they reached the top.
At the door to Lord Dorchester’s study, Matthew braced himself for another goodbye, but Jasmine spoke first.
“Come see me before you leave?” she asked. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room next to my bedchamber.”
“You shouldn’t wait up,” he said. “It’ll be hours.”
“That’s all right. I need to talk to you about something.” She lifted onto her toes and breathed into his ear, “And I want to give you a goodnight kiss.”
The hairs rose on his arms, and he choked on her name, “Jasmine, you’re going to get me in trouble.”
“The sitting room near my bedchamber. Down the hall, on the left.” She straightened his lapels and gave him an exaggerated curtsy. “Good luck with your contracts, Lord Lincolnshire.”
With a swish of her skirts, she pivoted and walked down the hall.
Matthew cursed.
Jasmine wasn’t a phoenix at all, she was a bloody siren. Masculine instinct tugged him to follow her and drown. Taking in several deep breaths, he collected himself. The last thing he needed was to walk into his future father-in-law’s study hard.
Once was enough.
***
The grandfather clock chimed eight o’clock, with no sign that Matthew’s meeting would end anytime soon. Every twenty minutes, Jasmine pressed her ear against the wooden door and listened to the murmuring tones of negotiations. That was a good sign, at least.
Or was it?
She had taken dinner with her mother and Matthew’s sisters, then excused herself for the evening, claiming exhaustion.
She needed time to think. Sitting on a sofa near the window of her sitting room, she watched the moon rise in the sky.
A few hours ago, she had considered going to her room, but with her luck, the meeting would end and she would miss Matthew completely.
She had so many questions for him.
He carried her portrait in his watch.
What does it mean?
And how did he get it?
Should she ask, or pretend she had seen nothing?
She could never successfully lie to him, but she would struggle to keep this to herself.
Nothing would ever get better if they continued keeping secrets from each other.
He had gone through such effort for her, had kissed her with such passion, leaving her with the most painful question of all.
How long had Matthew loved her?
Restless, she toyed with a chess set in the room. Her father taught her how to play, but it was her mother who taught her how to be two steps ahead. Jasmine knew the consequences for most moves and often surprised others by winning.
But she could never beat Matthew.
She toyed with the ivory pieces on a rosewood checkered board. The queen was the most powerful piece; it could make any move, go anywhere. As a child, she hadn’t understood why. She hadn’t known how powerless a king could be until she saw Matthew defeated by a duke.
Jasmine slid the queen piece in front of the king.
What am I going to do about Duke Kendall?
Whatever arrangement Matthew had with him was toxic. Somehow, she didn’t imagine that he could turn down Duke Kendall’s requests. Not without lingering and disastrous consequences to his entire family.
Her family.
A knock at the door startled her. Her rush of excitement fell flat when Don Lorenzo walked in.
“Buenas noches.” He leered at her, then down at the chess set. “Playing with yourself this evening?”
Jasmine grit her teeth. “Tread carefully. I broke the nose of the last man who touched me without permission. I’d hate to do it again.”
“Mi amor, pero qué lenguaje tan vulgar.” With genuine distaste, he spat, “Lord Rothwell is a fool. You cannot tame an Arabian by beating it. You must persuade it to yield. Prove yourself as its master.”
“I’m not a horse, Don Lorenzo, and I don’t yield.”
“That’s what I like about you, Jazmín. Tienes espíritu. Think of the children we could make! Beautiful. Strong. A woman like you needs someone powerful and wealthy.”
“No, you need that,” she parried. “How are your fields, Conde?”
“Thriving.” He curled his lip. “I’m in no need of your dowry, Princesa. I offer you riches and influence in the land of your blood.”
“England is the land of my blood, too!” She snapped to her feet. “As I’ve said multiple times, Don Lorenzo, I will not marry you.”
He approached a step closer, and she stood her ground.
“Use your brain.” He tapped his temple. “Think of your abuelo. His granddaughter, a condesa. He is… ?Cómo se dice eso en inglés?” He crossed his arms and pondered. “A commoner?”
“My abuelo will be satisfied when his great grandchildren are viscounts,” she hissed. “Now get out.”
“Escuché una historia interesante.” He moved closer until he stood an arm’s length away from her. “A shameful story of a poor winemaker who sold his daughter—”
“I said get out!”
“All of their pain and sacrifice and you waste it. Eres egoísta.”
“The lady told you to leave,” a deep voice cut in, drawing their attention to the door.
Matthew entered the room as if he owned it, moving to stand in front of Jasmine. He glowered at Don Lorenzo. “If I have to tell you, I won’t be so nice.”
“Lord Lincolnshire,” Don Lorenzo sang, arms open like welcoming a friend. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. You see, I’ve learned a lot about you this week. Many have given me their opinion, but Lady Ravenshaw in particular had much to say.”
Matthew scoffed. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Curious to know what she said, Jazmín?” Don Lorenzo spoke around Matthew. As if imparting a secret, he whispered, “Que él es un pervertido sin vergüenza.”
“Pervert?!” Matthew spat. He stomped forward and pointed at Don Lorenzo. “The pervert here is you. When a lady says no a man stops!”
“One cannot be a man if he has no soul.” Don Lorenzo laughed. “The devil will greet you when you die, Asesino de Lincolnshire. My hands are clean.”
“Your hands will be broken if you come near my fiancée again. Remember this, a damned man is a dangerous one,” he snarled. “I can’t be sent to hell twice.”
“Enough!” Jasmine stepped between the two. She pointed at Don Lorenzo, then jabbed her finger toward the door. “Out!”
He raised his arms as if in surrender and backed away. “We’ll speak later, Jazmín.” He smirked at Matthew. “You as well, Asesino.”
When Don Lorenzo exited the room, Matthew turned to Jasmine. Shoulders shaking, he seethed, “How is that weasel still under your roof?”
“Mother said we can’t remove him without political consequences for the entire nation.” She sighed. “And he hasn’t touched me.”
“Not yet!” he snapped. “Blast it. I can’t protect you from anything in here.”
“What did he mean by pervert?” she demanded. “Lady Ravenshaw said that to me too, that you’re depraved.”
“She spoke to you?! When? What did she say?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does! Whatever she’s spreading about London—”
“Can be handled,” she shot back. “Is there anything between you now?”
“No,” he responded at once. “We’re through.”
“Do you love her?” Jasmine asked, terrified of the answer.
“No.” He held her gaze, and he enunciated each word, “I never loved her.”
“Do you love me?” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could take them back.
“I’m not answering that right now.” He shook his head hard. “Not like this.”
“You have a portrait of me in your watch, Matthew. This isn’t nothing between us.” He flinched, but she continued, “Your past doesn’t matter if we’re having a future together—”
“What do you mean ‘if’?!”
“If you’re going to change your mind, do it now,” she ordered. “You can walk away, and—”
“Don’t you dare release me from my obligation again!” His eyes flared and his voice rose. “Are you having second thoughts?”
“No, my thoughts are clear.”
Jasmine stomped to the door, closed it, and turned the key in the lock with a click.
Matthew’s eyes widened.
“Jasmine, what are you—”
She marched forward, grabbed the collar of his coat, yanked him down, and kissed him.